He was holed out in the dusty attic of his uncle’s house. He spent most of his days there, with his books and his cousin’s hand-me-down toys. He could hear his aunt complain about his messy hair and messier room, and his cousin chortling. He did not like it at his uncle’s. They didn’t hate him. But, they didn’t love him either. He was just a responsibility bestowed upon them by his dead parents. He noticed the streetlights flickering.
‘Any time now,’ He thought. ‘Hargrid will be here to take me away.’
Few days later, Barry Trotter was admitted into the local psychiatric facility.
Wednesday’s here and with it, yet another edition of Friday Fictioneers hosted by our gracious host, Rochelle Wisoff – Fields. This week’s picture prompt is from Dale Rogerson. Thank you Rochelle and Dale. Read other entries to this challenge, and add your own here.
Oh yeah, Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.